Artificial Intelligence
by HetareIggysama
Summary: Human/Android Au. 'Alfred is not the same as that boy. He is a mere replacement of HIM, a constant reminder of what Arthur has lost.But the mecha is on a quest to change that- to seek a mutual feeling of love and life' Based on the movie AI. Arthur/Alfred
1. Chapter 1

**This is your guide to model #50, who you have custom named 'Alfred F. Jones', a Hetalized*(For more on Hetaloid see chapter 2) simulation program built for your pleasure. **

**Warning: Fragile merchandise, treat with extreme care Limited warranty **

**Made in collaboration with Honda Kiku and Veneciano Vargas**

**Made in Japan. **

**Attention potential buyers! We now have factories where we sell and produce in Italy! Coming soon to Russia and the UK! **

**Staff wanted: Are you skilled in technology? Have you always wanted to make good money? Well, come to our warehouse (located in Japan and Italy) and join the family! At the Hetaloid HQ, we specialize in making families happy by crafting specially designed androids for a living! Check us out at our website for more information, and we **_**may**_** hire you! **

**(May be 17 years old to order or older) **

"Hello Master! I'm Alfred F. Jones, your new Hetaloid based-simulation program! Thank you for your purchase, I am at your service from here on!" His voice was a little rough, high pitched and slightly annoying-though still undeniably cute- nothing a little tweaking couldn't fix.

There was an append feature to add to the file that came in the same box as the manual that he would be using to soften the tone to an almost human-like sound. The personification was already able to 'breathe', which the buyer would delve into later.

The android imitated a human smile and put his hand to the side of his head in a salute. He was wearing a brown leather stitched vest with a yellow badge on the side pocket, some shorts and a pair of cowboy boots pulled up to his hand made thighs.

A cowboy hat was perched delicately on his blonde hair to expose what looked like an antenna sticking up from underneath the rim .Glasses flashed data into his hard drive, where his eyes took in the information in front of him, small cameras hidden in each pupil.

The buyer smiled, looking over his new merchandise with excitement written all over from the way he stepped forward slowly, as if savouring each step, to the way his smile faltered a moment before being replaced by an even wider one at the way Alfred's clear blue orbs seemed to beckon him closer, obviously awaiting command .

He cupped his hands over the side of the machines - no _Alfred's_ beautifully constructed surface.

The skin felt almost real to his touch, creamy, smooth, and sensitive. As he touched him, Alfred's hand dropped to the side, and he seemed to go rigid, no doubt trying to process the meaning in the human fingers tracing along the side of his cheeks.

Alfred looked at his new master, awaiting an order of some kind, but instead met with pink human skin- the other had brushed his lips onto his synthetic ones in a quick gesture that deepened after a few moments.

The gesture did not compute. It made no sense, it was strange, but deep in his pre-installed reference files, Alfred knew this was a called a 'kiss.' He had never been kissed before- he had performed acts of 'pleasure' but none of them required such contact, only the touching.

He made no move return it; he kept his arms at his sides, holding the sensation in his memory drive for later use. It seemed he would perform this task on a regular base, which he didn't – or couldn't- mind.

The android's eyes stayed open, scanning the rest of the room as the lips continued to kiss his. He could tell the other worked on the house often; the living room that he was in was unsoiled, almost sparkling for lack of anything decorating it- not even a book in the expansive lines of shelves along the walls was out of place, and Alfred saved this document too in his memory file, to remind himself to keep things organized.

He waited patiently for his new master to pull away from the contact so that he could perform the next task, but so far the other had taken to rubbing along the inside of his shirt almost desperately. It was as though he expected something to happen, a response of some sort, but what, Alfred could not understand.

Again, he processed the gesture. It was a delicate touch really, careful, wanting – his former master never performed such tasks, instead getting straight to the point and programming more lewd activities into his software.

There were never any of the desperate touches before. Aside the times his creators held him to their chest in a tight grip upon saying his first words, he had never interacted in the tender fashion – no, besides those soft moments, Alfred had only been used for more 'demeaning' purposes, trained to wear long flowing 'dresses' and 'blush' a bright red when others saw.

This was getting strange; there was nothing in his files that said he would be 'kissing' upon arrival- his master was clinging furiously to him by now.

From the safety features installed in his 'brain', humans needed air, and his master didn't appear to be breathing as he grabbed the back of his neck and leaned in so that his flesh covered body was pressing against Alfred's synthesized one.

Alfred pulled his owner away carefully, doing his best to control his in-human strength. He scanned the human's body temperature, which appeared to be a little higher than his software recommended.

"Master, are you well? Do you need assistance?" The human was panting now; his face red from what Alfred presumed was lack of air.

A painted pair of lips turned down into what he knew was called a 'frown'. Had Alfred caused his master to go ill so suddenly? The most he had done was smile, and introduce himself, but the contact made between himself and his new owner seemed to have put a threat on the taller's health in so short a time.

Really, humans were just so fragile. Alfred smiled widely at his master again, revealing perfectly crafted artificial teeth. Humans may be fragile, but this was _his_ human. He would satisfy this man always, because that was his duty, his sole purpose – to make sure every need was satisfied.

It was what he was created for, this much he knew.

"R-right. Sorry about that, I know it was sudden… I'm doing well, thank you- er- please sit on the couch, I have some features I must install first."

Alfred nodded sharply, directing himself to the couch in the almost overwhelmingly clean living area, where he sat, taking another look around as he waited for master to follow.

There was nothing much here save a lonely glass coffee table directly in front of the white couch he was currently sitting on, the book shelf he had viewed earlier standing proudly up to the ceiling with a rolling ladder placed in front.

After a while of processing his surroundings Alfred's lenses were attracted to a few books scattered across the glass surface of the table, and he listened to make sure his user was preoccupied with rummaging through the boxes that had come with the purchase before he picked the material up.

The title was strange, written in a language he could not comprehend.

He had been programmed to understand a specified range of languages which included English, Japanese, Italian, German, French, Spanish and Esperanto, but looking at this material in his hands, he found he could not decipher what the word could possibly mean.

Alfred searched his memory banks. He had been with another master before, a tall man named Ivan. He had stayed in Russia with the man for about 3 months before he was finally taken back to the factory with his concerned creators.

Using his knowledge now, Alfred scanned the title of the book again, bringing up his Russian translator. No, it wasn't anything Russian either. From the brief times he had been around Ivan's sisters and friends, he understood the language was not in Latvian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Lithuanian, or Estonian.

It certainly wasn't in Finnish or Swede either…

In the other room, his master was busy with the many applications that had come with his purchase. Alfred turned the page, a large, and rather sudden, wave of information hitting him dead on as he did so.

The entire page was filled with humans, but ones that looked nothing like either one of his masters – they resembled Ivan's sister, the one who had extra flesh along the front of their body. Briefly, the word 'female' passed over his personal screen.

So these were female humans? Alfred had never seen a female unclothed, as these ones were. He had only ever been exposed to the naked skin of his former master's large body, but the parts here were different than the ones he was made with.

He observed the page further, snapping a picture with his pupils. The females in this book – which he assumed his master held for educational purposes- were exposed to the air, without anything to cover their pink flesh.

Liquids were covering them from head to foot, which he identified as 'sweat' and the thicker pools of white he knew were 'sperm'. Ivan had made sure to inform him of those things while the android was in his care, but what the personification did not understand, was why these females would be doing such things.

He adjusted his glasses. Ivan had said such activities were only meant to be for the two of them (information that his creators thought they had erased, but Alfred had hidden in a disk beforehand to regain the information). So why were these females doing such things with the males?

"Ah- here's the manual! I'm so excited I have you, and these here are called 'appends' I'll be using them so-" The human stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the items he was holding onto the hardwood floor.

Alfred's head whipped around on its axis, and he quickly placed the book down, certain that his master had become upset by the way he stared at him.

"Alfred… er, it's all right, silly me, I must have left it out on accident." He mumbled a few things before walking forward, removing the book and returning shortly afterward to his new program waiting silently on the couch.

Alfred watched as he coughed into his hand, smiling nervously at him with reflective green eyes.

"I-I've gotten so excited these last couple of weeks, when I heard you had finally been moved from that Russian's house…" He bit his lip, something odd in the way he said 'Russian', something Alfred could not place, but was sure was an 'emotion' lacing it. "And, well, now that you're here, that you're safe, I just…"

What was this man talking about? When he looked through his floppy disk and memory files, he found nothing on the Brit in beside him, not even a small icon from his 'met humans' list.

There was nothing regarding him in his emergency files, and all documents came up devoid of him when he searched through 'helping hands' and 'important figures'. He blinked his eyes, allowing the screens that had flitted across it to minimize as he waited for his master to continue.

"It's just… you remind me of this person… you look a lot like him only…"

The volume increased on Alfred's eardrums, attempting to suck in the information.

The Briton sighed. His hand had become pale suddenly, his fingers digging into his palms as a few droplets of liquids fell from the green eyes. "You look a lot like Matthew too- just like he did. S-someday, you'll meet him but…" he breathed in, letting the thick silence hover expectantly over their heads before he continued, this time in a flat tone that allowed no emotion to seep through the sides.

"I've waited for you a long time Alfred; I'm just sorry you had to stay with _him_, that Russian **bastard** before we could meet each other."

"You know about Master Ivan?" Alfred tilted his head to the side, the new information ready to seep in.

"Don't call him that!" The taller blonde shouted- Alfred nodded, taking the outburst as his first command. "S-sorry- just don't mention his name in this house, please…. on with the software then… open your mouth please, I need to install this chip into your tongue."

Alfred complied, before an alert box flickered on the inside of his synthetic eyelids.

_Please insert new master's name for future reference. This is a required setting, for future reference and human medical purposes. _

"M-master! You have not told me your name. I must know what to call you. May I please?"

"O-oh! Sorry- you may call me Arthur, and there really isn't a need to call me master." He added with a blush.

_Please insert sir name._

"Master Arthur, what is your sir-name?"

"Er-Kirkland. My full name is Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred nodded, typing the data into the required box with a few rapid flickers of his eyelashes. He held his tongue out again, resuming the earlier set task.

"Oh- thank you."

Arthur removed a small chip from its designated packet, a pair of tweezers in his hand to insert along the part that would normally hold taste buds. There was a soft 'click' that came from the shorter's open mouth that seemed to resound around the large space.

"There. Try to say something. Say 'hello'."

"Hello~"

Arthur smiled widely, letting out a small laugh of surprise and happiness. His voice was considerably clearer now, it sounded smoother, and closer to the real thing.

He made Alfred a few more full sentences to make sure things were working well, and removed the other's hat for him after a time.

"You won't necessarily need this now, it's about time we had dinner and gotten to bed soon."

_8:00 Pm – _the voice inside his head chirped, setting the 'bedtime' to the current time.

Alfred's lips turned upward. He was just glad that his master had cheered up from before, and was no longer leaking what his database called 'tears'.

"Shall I cook for you Master Arthur? Is there anything you have in mind?"

Arthur stood, making his way to the kitchen and waving for Alfred to follow. The synthesizer got the message, and followed his user into the kitchen, where Arthur turned to look into his eyes.

"I can cook well enough myself, so as for that, no thank you – however, it's good that you try now, let me see what you can do first." He raised a thick eyebrow expectantly. "I prefer fish and chips, beef stew, or a nice cuisine would be alright with me. I'll eat anything you cook, actually."

Information on these items made their way through Alfred's head in the time the human took to start till he ended with a slight tinge of red staining his cheeks.

"I can make nikkujaga, pasta, pizza, salmon, and hamburgers. I am sorry master Arthur, but as for the other things, I am not so sure – but, I'll try my hardest!"

Arthur's heart sank considerably. As for the food, he really didn't care, but this android in front of him was completely different the one he had known. He never laughed. There was no emotion in those cold blue eyes, he didn't kiss him back, and he hadn't even reacted in the same way to his offer to cook the meals as the other had.

He looked exactly like that boy, save for the inhuman lack of emotion, and antennae that stuck from his hair instead of the cowlick he had grown used to seeing.

"R-right. It is alright, honest. If you can make burgers, please do."

He didn't feel so much like eating anymore, but he had been at least relieved to hear that the other knew how to make one of that boy's favourite foods.

"Yes master."

"Please- call me Arthur. Y-you can even call me Artie, or 'caterpillar brows' but it really is alright if you don't call me 'master' anymore."

This new user was strange indeed. He had been required to say 'master' at all times to his Russian caretaker, which was certainly encouraged. The males that he had met through Ivan would always insist he used the word, every chance he got, no matter the circumstance.

Ah, well, even Ivan and his friends were different than each other, and he supposed this, too, counted as one of those differences that humans had.

"Yes Artie." He chirped with his new voice. He liked the way the word sounded- '_Artie'_- it was short, clean, and sounded nice when he said it, his new software eliminating any extra unwanted noises at the end.

_Artie._

Alfred grinned before reaching into the freezer, looking for the meat to make the hamburgers with. He could tell Arthur was looking at him from behind, but he didn't say anything, just continued with his work.

**A/N: I don't own Hetalia or any Hetaloid or other program. (had to get that out the way somewhere) **

**This story is based on AI (Artificial Intelligence) and I'm going to make it just as sad d'aww.**

***wipes brow* it is now 5:52. Yeesh. But it's alright, cause I'm going to listen to America count me some sheep! :D Anyway, please review, and Alfred and Arthur will take turns kissing/fan servicing you and then count sheep in your bed next to you 3 **

**Also – for anyone wondering, the book said 'Eros' which is some type of language for 'love' which in this case is used for the third love, which is sex. I read it somewhere in a book, but I forgot most of it. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Welcome to chapter 2. By now, you should already know how to handle your custom made Hetaloid. For more information on the original creators of your new program, see chapter 3. If you have any complaints, suggestions, questions or recommendations, please click the button on your manual's touch screen that reads 'review'. The main supervisor, known informally as 'Hetare' should back to you. Thank you. **

Alfred smiled softly at his master as he watched him slip a pair of black pants up to his waist. It had been a full week since he had arrived, seven days that were hardly eventful, but in which he acquired new, more useful data.

From the window, a few streaks of sunlight forced their way through a slight crack in the blinds and shone into the room, the first day in America that had been warm all week.

"Oh – Alfred, you go ahead and get dressed too. We're going to be meeting Al- _your_ brother, but first, Honda and Vargas will be stopping by directly."

Arthur mumbled something about Ivan but ended with a smile of his own as he pulled a vest over his shirt.

He gestured toward a neatly folded pair of clothes on the queen sized bed before stepping toward the window and looking out, sitting on the sill.

It really was the first sign of good weather the entire week – just yesterday it had been pouring thickly, unrelenting and forcing both him and Alfred inside the house to stay safe and warm in the large abode.

Arthur's hands folded themselves in his lap. For a while, he just stared in Alfred's direction, completely focused on the way he lifted the garments carefully over his head, even putting on the pants that Arthur had fished from the boy's closet.

The difference between _him_ and Alfred were obvious. The first would have rushed, buttoned his vest carelessly, leave the fly open and toss the pyjamas in a random corner – not smooth the material in his fingers, checking that they were correctly fit.

He would not have folded the night-clothes so perfectly, standing to place them gracefully on the dresser before returning to sit back down with submissive eyes in Arthur's direction.

The boy would never do those things. He was different. He would have _spark_, excitement in his eyes, restless limbs doing an excited dance as he waited impatiently for his friend to make breakfast.

But the figure who sat watching him, almost curiously, was _not_ that boy. He was a mere imitation, a mecha that Arthur himself had custom ordered and designed, a feeble attempt to get his loved one back, to ease this unbearable pain that ate away at him _every_ _single_ _last_ _day_.

Arthur wanted that boy back. To hug him, love him, cherish him like old times. He didn't move as Alfred stood up and sat by him on the sill, holding his hand in his.

…His synthetic, _mimicked_ hand that felt warm from the artificial bodily system, but oh so cold, so distant. The Briton's hand squeezed the fingers holding his, grateful for the responsive grip that followed shortly after.

"Artie?"

They had done a near perfect job of using the sample Arthur had sent them. The mecha sounded almost exactly as his lover had, a faint hint of emotion dripping from the single word.

"Right then… let's go in the kitchen shall we? I have to make our breakfast."

Neither of them mentioned the obvious fact that Alfred could not taste. He could not even eat what was set before him, but in the long week that he had been living with Arthur, he had already grown used to the gesture, and the two would sit at the table together at every meal, each with their own plate of nourishment.

Alfred stood, still hand in hand with his master to the desired room, down a hallway of old 'paintings' remembering that the other enjoyed the walk as opposed to the shining elevator.

In the back of his skilfully crafted mind, Alfred 'hoped'. Every day, his master would teach him something new, more meaningful than anything his preinstalled memory and references could pull up.

He was teaching him to _feel_.

In a single week, Arthur had shown him in depth what his actions meant; what emotions were displayed by the annual morning kiss, the times at night when he would gently pat his hair, gazing at him with a foggy look in his eye, and the moments where he would laugh fondly, a gentle lace of 'happiness' in his eyes.

Alfred wanted what his master had. He was tired of being left out, of watching as the Briton ate what he made, frowned, cried, _felt_. He wished he would was able to access all of those emotions, but for the time being, he only held a faint outline of them. He would never truly feel the same way as the human could.

He could see, whenever the other thought he didn't notice, the emotion of sadness in his eyes, pitiful, desperate, wanting of him. He knew he did not need him for his cooking service, nor his help with keeping the many rooms organized.

He never once bothered to touch him the way Ivan touched him, only the _kisses, hugs, hand holding_.

So why? Why did Arthur purchase him? As much as he searched for a reason, he simply could not. Why would Arthur keep him – the way he stared at him was always filled with sadness, hidden deep behind green orbs.

If Arthur did not like him, did not _love_ him… If Alfred was the cause of this pain that why was he kept here, treated so… kindly? It was absolutely perplexing. He told him he loved him. But when he looked closer, he could tell that the love was addressed toward someone else.

The main thing that Alfred wanted now was to feel that love, make it _his_, and not some _other's_, someone who was never mentioned, but both knew such feelings were addressed towards.

"Alfred? Silly, let go of my hand, how am I supposed to cook otherwise?" The man's large eyebrows scrunched together slightly at the way Alfred seemed to be staring into space; his wrist was beginning to throb with pain as he attempted to pull away.

"Yes Arthur."

Alfred released him from his grip, ashamed. He quickly made sure that he had not left a bruise on the fleshy hand or wrist (which, thankfully, he hadn't) and moved to place himself on the kitchen counter.

It was an annual routine by now – sitting, watching as Arthur removed ingredients from cabinets and refrigerator, placing them on the counter beside Alfred and on the stove.

As always, Arthur had begun the meal, carelessly adding more and more unnecessary elements, setting the fire too high, failing to pour enough grease in the skillet, and having the eggs burn almost instantaneously.

A few days ago, when Alfred had asked why he didn't have him assist, or at least prepared the instant meals, he just looked at him strangely before saying; "I like the old fashioned way… and you wouldn't even bother helping me."

When he said this, Alfred couldn't help but to turn his lips down in confusion. Of course, if he had only asked him, he would cook all the meals (he knew how to perform such a task) so why had his master turned him down like that?

How could he say he wouldn't help, if that was precisely what he wanted to do?

Now he just allowed Arthur to make his mistakes, kicking his legs out slightly as the man cussed under his breath at the calamity on the hob.

"DAMN IT!" A globule of grease sizzled and landed thickly on Arthur's uncovered arm. It took only a few seconds for Alfred to move him out of the way as this happened, removing a handkerchief from his pocket to soak up the burning liquid.

"Be careful! Arthur, you should have let me do the food preparation!" His voice assumed a weary tone, setting the taller blonde down in a chair.

He was very capable of it, especially the hamburgers that Arthur seemed to love so much.

The one thing he did not expect, as he left and retuned with healing ointment, was for the Brit to slap it out of his hand as he came close.

"Stop that! You don't care, you would laugh, and you can't cook either! You would just tell me to go to the burger shop!"

The accusation was harsh, and fresh tears fell from Arthur's face as he shouted.

"Don't be angry, please. I will make breakfast, just please don't be upset."

The human breathed deeply, surprised with himself. He had suddenly become painfully aware of his surroundings, of the dent in his composure.

Arthur wiped a few tears from the side of his eyes, cursing himself. It wasn't the mecha's fault he was here in place of his dear lover and friend.

It wasn't the machine's business that it was only being used as a replacement – he let a smile grace his lips – It wasn't Alfred's fault that he wasn't real, but the mecha had at least began to _feel_ these days_._

The two had 'bonded', and the inhuman of the two was getting better and better each day at 'love'.

He would hug him back now, look with concerned eyes whenever his owner ruined a dish, and most importantly, those words, the words Arthur longed to hear each day in that boy's voice were spoken, every sunrise without break.

… Three simple words that meant the world to him, the sole thing that stopped Arthur from leaping from the side of his 12 story pent house. Those words… Alfred's voice may have been vocalized, but it was still _his voice. _

Alfred returned from the kitchen shortly after the incident. He had already been trained to cook every meal by hand, as Arthur refused to touch anything instant made or artificial (ironic, seeing as Alfred himself was nothing more than a crafted machine) and everything he made was praised.

"I-I'm sorry for being rude earlier," He thanked the server for the food set in front of him. "I was being an arse. In any case," he checked the holographic clock on the wall "Your crea-_friends_, should be here in another half hour."

He of course, wasn't very hungry any more, but he ate what Alfred gave him anyway.

Eggs, bacon, toast, sausages – some of his favourite things. Each bite he took should have been delicious, as they normally were, but guilt still played an important role in his stomach, making the food sink tastelessly past his taste buds where they sat in the bottom of his stomach like an anchor.

"Understood." Alfred leaned down carefully, kissing the top of Arthur's forehead in an act of 'love'.

His body was used as a sex object in the past days, his inhuman strength manipulated and tweaked to turn on Ivan's human companions. In all the time he had been alive, he was used as a tool, for his _purpose – a tool_.

He could not recall how often he was required to threaten little Raivas, had inflicted pain on Eduard or Toris- but instead, here, in this large house with only two residence, he was… he could not place the feeling. While he did feel love, it seemed a large per cent of it was addressed to that other person.

It was an odd sensation really, but Alfred was created to develop. He liked being here, as opposed to in the cold, harsh conditions of the Braginsky residence.

For once, he could process _why _humans kissed, touched, felt each other each night. It certainly was a pleasant change.

He loved. He loved Arthur. He loved his voice, his hair, his eyes, the way he held himself. He held Arthur close so that he could hear the beating of his hand made heart.

"I love you Alfred."

"I know Arthur. I love you too."

**A/N: When I said – he even put on the pants – I meant underwear in US dialect, where in UK and some other places, you'd say pants. **

**And before you even ask – no, Iggy does not use Alfred as a sex toy, that's Russia's job. **

**Finally, did you guys here about vocaloid 3 coming out?** (**SHE ORIGINATED IN KOREA DAZE!) It's what Alfred's voice sounds like, except it's in his own voice **

**Wow, that was a shorter than usual chapter. I usually try to do 8 pages or more, but meh. Anyway, Kiku and Veni appear in chapter 3 to explain how Alfred develops. And to the anon reviewer, don't worry, cause you will find out! Keep going to meet gigolo Joe! And guess who the Teddy's gonna be? NOT TELLIN YOU! ;D**


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